We usually talk about learning like it just happens.
Like people naturally pick things up the same way. Same pace. Same process.
But a lot of the time, what gets called “obvious,” is something that had to be built from scratch.
Have you ever tried to explain something to someone who has never seen before? Not picture it in your head. Not take a guess. Actually explain it so it makes sense to them.
Not visually. Not “it looks like this.” Not pointing at things like that’s going to carry the meaning.
For a lot of blind people, that’s the starting point.
We don’t grow up watching the world and copying it. We don’t learn movement by observation or posture by accident. A lot of what others pick up visually needs to be taught to us in a more direct way.
Piece by piece. From what we’re told. From what we touch. From what we hear. From what we experience over time.
And that changes how certain things have to be understood.
I was in a conversation recently about how young blind children learn basic skills. And I do mean basic, in the way that makes you pause for a second and realise how much gets assumed.
For example, walking.
Most people never think about it. You just do it, right?
But movement isn’t something a child automatically copies just by being around it. It must be learned through what works in the moment.
If crawling gets you from point A to point B safely and efficiently, then that becomes a valid strategy. Not because anything is wrong, but because the body is always going to repeat what succeeds.
From there, upright movement often starts to emerge through experience. Holding onto the sides of a crib. Pulling up on furniture. Feeling what it’s like to stand, even briefly. Realising that height changes what you can reach, and balance is something you can work with.
That’s how a new way of moving begins to form.
Not through imitation, through interaction.
When people notice things like toe walking, the immediate assumption is often that something is wrong. But at the beginning, maybe it’s not wrong. Perhaps, it’s just movement still taking shape.
That distinction matters, because it changes how you respond. It shifts it from correction to teaching.
Rain is another example.
You can tell a child it’s raining, and they’ll understand the word. But that’s not the same as understanding the experience.
Understanding comes when it’s felt. When it hits the skin. When the cold registers. When the sound they’ve heard before finally connects to something physical and real.
The same idea shows up in everyday environments too. Dirt. Mud. Grass.
To someone who can see, those differences are immediate. You adjust without thinking. But without sight, they begin as labels first, and experiences second.
This is dirt. Loose. Dry. It shifts under your feet.
This is mud. Heavier. It changes how you move and where you step.
And grass is not always the same grass.
Dry grass and wet grass can feel like completely different environments underfoot. One is light and easy. The other is damp, cooler, and more noticeable with every step.
Same word. Different experience.
That’s how the world gets built. Not visually, but through connection.
And then there’s the way we translate things within the blind community itself.
I was on a call recently with some of my friends. One of them was trying to describe a drink. After a bit of back and forth, he said, “It tastes like a dry version of a grape Solo.”
And that was enough.
Everyone understood.
Because we don’t rely on appearance. We rely on reference. Memory. Shared experience.
You know grape Solo. You know what “dry” feels like in your mouth. Put those together and your mind fills in the rest.
The same thing happens with colour.
Take blue.
People might describe it as calm, or cool, or like shade on a hot day. Like distance, or quiet that feels open rather than empty. Not because that’s what it looks like, but because that’s the closest way to anchor it to something real.
Something that can be felt in another way.
So yes, the world might be designed visually.
But understanding it isn’t limited to that.
For some of us, it’s built through sound, texture, temperature, movement, taste and the way those things connect over time.
And once you see that clearly, you stop treating one way of understanding as the default.
There’s just experience, and how it gets translated.
Because nothing is obvious when you have to build it from scratch.
This column is supplied in conjunction with the T&T Blind Welfare Association
Headquarters: 118 Duke Street, Port-of-Spain, Trinidad
Email: ttbwa1914@gmail.com
Phone: (868) 624-4675
WhatsApp: (868) 395-3086
